Until I Met You

by S. L. Scott

  “I want you.”

  “How do you want me?”

  She replied, “All over,” while digging her fingers through his light brown hair.

  “What do you like?”

  “Architects. Ice cream in the middle of winter. Cooking for you. And your mouth on me. Anywhere. And everywhere.”

  A chuckle heated her chest, then he sucked good and hard. Maneuvering lower, he lowered her panties as he went down.

  Reaching above her head to hold onto anything, she grappled to find something solid, but failed. His hands opened her wider and his mouth was on her. Jude’s arms dropped to her sides and she fisted the blanket. “Taylor,” she murmured, unable to keep his name inside her any longer. One of her hands took hold of his hair and she tightened her fingers in it. The straining pain on his scalp was harsh and encouraging, making him dip deeper, and press on her inner thighs harder. Each of her seductive whimpers was poetry to his groin and he bore down.

  He loved to look at her. She was open and so completely tempting. As he tasted her, he found her pleasure. Reaching into his drawer next to the bed, he got a condom and put it on as she lay there, recovering from the riptide of tremors that coursed through her body.

  Taylor settled between her legs, balanced above her on his forearms. As they looked into each other’s eyes, she touched his cheek and lifted up to kiss his lids. Her lips were warm and plush, covering his eyes as he pushed inside her. He sighed. Relief and satisfaction became one as they became one.

  When he dropped his forehead to the bed, he kissed her shoulder and pulled back out. Slowly. Slowly. Slowly he pushed back inside her welcoming warmth. Wrapping her arms around him, she rubbed the back of his neck, and down his spine. The muscles teetered between tense and relaxed as his arched back moved under her touch. Taylor’s breathless voice called to her, “Juuuude.” He repeated her name over and over until it got lost in the moans and motions of their bodies coming together and releasing.

  Taylor fell to the side, a slight sheen of sweat covered his face, and when he kissed the rounded edge of her shoulder, he tasted her sweet and salty skin. “You’re beautiful,” he said in the light of day. January third.

  Without opening her eyes, a satisfied smile covered her ruby, kissable lips. “You’re sex drunk. Tell me when you’re sober.”

  He could have told her she was beautiful again, right then. He wasn’t sex drunk. He was more aware of who he was and what he felt, more life sober than he’d been in years. But he knew she wouldn’t believe him, so he placed another kiss on her shoulder and rolled onto his back.

  Jude scooted into his side and rested her head in the nook of his arm. She should leave, but she felt drunk on the sex they just shared, and didn’t want what was pulsing deep inside her to end. The feeling was too powerful, entirely intoxicating, and utterly heartbreaking.

  Even after squeezing her eyes shut, a flashback came anyway…

  “No, Daddy. Please. I’ll be good.”

  “We must abide by their wishes or risk breaking the law.”

  She closed her eyes before the tears could slip down and cleared her mind of the damaged parts of her brain. Instead, she went through the thirty-three flavors of ice cream at her favorite shop, until she figured it out. Hazel wasn’t pistachio. No, that just didn’t fit who she knew him to be at all. Smiling to herself when his arm wrapped around her, she knew exactly what flavor she would order the next time they happen to be out in the middle of winter wanting a sweet treat.

  “DON’T YOU HAVE to work?” Jude asked, her fingertips running freely over his chest.

  “It’s Sunday.”

  She sat straight up, her hands on the bed holding her upright and glanced at the time. Three fifty-three in the afternoon. Another second ticked by and she threw the covers from her body and raced around the bed. Grabbing her dress from the floor, she continued to the bathroom.

  Taylor watched, rolling onto his side and propping himself up by the elbow. “You’re leaving? Now?”

  She came back out and turned her side to him. “Zip.”

  “Why are you leaving? Stay.”

  “I can’t. I have dinner plans.”

  His fingers, holding the zipper, stopped halfway up her ribs and he tilted his head to the side. “Care to elaborate on that after having sex with me all night, morning, and day?”

  Looking down at him, she giggled. “With my family. Don’t worry. I’m not sleeping, eating ice cream, or having sex with anyone else tonight.”

  When she faced away again, he finished with the dress, and lay back. The edge of her dress was held firmly in his hand and he tugged twice. “Are you coming back?”

  Exhaling loudly, she sat on the bed, her bottom pressed against his legs. Jude looked into his eyes, the hazel brighter, a tempting green. “Do you want me to?”

  “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

  She leaned over him and kissed him. He grabbed her around the waist and flipped her onto the mattress next to him until he was on top. “Come back to me.”

  Her fingers weaved through his messy hair. “I like you like this.”

  “As opposed to what?”

  “As opposed to being a Barrett.”

  “Oh, don’t lie to yourself. I’m a Barrett through and through. All signs will lead me into temptation of societal acceptance and wealth at the expense of family, friends, and lov—”

  Her finger covered his lips, stopping him from saying anything more. “Don’t finish that thought. Don’t give up before you’ve had a chance.”

  “A chance at what, Jude? Tell me.”

  “A chance at life. A chance at happiness.” Her voice got so low he almost didn’t hear her say, “A chance to love.”

  Dropping his head down on her shoulder, he took her hands in his and raised them above her head, and whispered, “Show me how to love. Until I met you, I think I’ve been doing it all wrong.”

  SHE KISSED HIS temple and said, “When done right, love is felt, not shown.” Sliding out from under him, she put her back to him as her feet touched the ground again.

  He groaned from her absence. “Sounds complicated.”

  “It is. My family has shown me how much they love me to the point of smothering me.”

  “But you still leave me to have dinner with them.”

  She looked back, angling so she could really see him. “Maybe I’ve got love all wrong. Maybe it’s supposed to be suffocating and hollow.”

  One of her delicate hands lay across her lap, the other on the bed behind her. He took the one that supported her, the one that would leave her relying on him, and held it. “What’s your last name, Jude?”

  Her head tilted down and she watched her feet, an overwhelming sense of self-preservation would slip away if she wasn’t careful. “Let’s not muddy the snow with such things that don’t matter in the days to come, Hazel.” Her fingers slipped from his as she took her coat and walked away. Standing at the crossroad of his bedroom and her goodbye, she said, “Sometimes you don’t even have to find the end of a rainbow to find its treasure.” Wiggling her fingers, she left him.

  Taylor didn’t debate whether he should go after her this time. This time he let her go because she was going whether he wanted her to or not. But before the front door could close, he said, “Come back when you can, Pretty Jude.”

  The door clicked closed and he was left with the scent of lingering cigarette smoke and the memories of surname-less Jude engulfing the rest of the space. For someone he’d known less than twenty-four hours, she sure knew how to occupy his mind. He’d never understood love at first sight, but it became conceivable in that moment. How she’d managed to disrupt his whole world, spinning it onto a new axis in such a short time was surprising. He smiled wanting to fully embrace this new trajectory.

  In her absence, he watched the day deliver the night right to his window. Not even getting the courtesy of a golden winter evening, which was his favorite. No, darkness set in quickly tonight. And that was tha
t.

  Around nine, he stared at the turned-down frame on the nightstand. It reminded him of long-held anger from his past. An emotion he had forgotten while Jude filled the space, showing him there was a different way to live, a way to move forward.

  Reaching across the bed, the mattress where Jude had slept, he opened the drawer and slid the frame inside, facedown, and slammed it shut.

  There was no satisfaction in the action like he once suspected he would get if he had the strength to actually do that. No, none came. Just an emptiness he didn’t know how to fill. So he ate. Frozen waffles that cooked in sixty seconds in the toaster. A can of soup he found in his small food cabinet for days when he was sick. Grapes he picked up on Wednesday. He was stuffed when he finished, but the emptiness still sat heavy in his belly, undigested.

  Snow fell in rolling sheets, blowing across the wall of windows of his living room. Louis Armstrong and Billie Holiday wafted through the room as the hours ticked away.

  By eleven, Taylor got up from the couch and stood with his toes touching the wall of glass. With a highball of Whiskey on the rocks in hand, he put his other on the window. It was cold, much like his insides. He finished the drink and sat at his drafting table in the corner. Sketching frantically before his hand would relent, he found himself drawing wide blue-green eyes and jagged brown hair. Taylor mixed two colors to create the shade of green he was missing the most about now. But before he had enough drawn to make sense of it, his phone rang.

  He looked down at the phone as it rang until the number came into view. But it wasn’t a number; it was a name. A name that he had thrown into the drawer earlier that night.

  Katherine.

  Katherine.

  Katherine.

  Turning the music off with the push of a button, he took a long breath. When he lifted the phone to his ear, he knew he shouldn’t. He knew it was the same as opening the door to her, which he was doing to his own detriment, but couldn’t stop. “Hello?”

  “Taylor.” Her tone was deeper, melancholy, trying her best to get to him. “How are you?”

  He stayed quiet a minute, but gave in, into the weakness of giving her any of his time again, and snapped, “I’m still sick just in case you’d forgotten.”

  Her exasperated breath said more than her words. “I heard you were better.”

  “Depends who you’re talking to.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called. I just…” He remembered her using this ploy to draw him back to her when he was lost in his own thoughts. It didn’t work anymore, so she said, “I miss you, Taylor. I miss us.”

  He let silence reacquaint itself and took his time. Reaching for his glass, the ice had melted, but he hoped to find a few remaining drops of liquor mixed in. “Katherine, this isn’t good.” He swallowed the rest, and added, “We’re not good.”

  “It’s all my fault.” He let her say what he thought she should have said a year earlier. “I was scared.”

  “You were scared? Katherine,” he said, sighing. “I can’t do this. Not right now.”

  “Maybe coffee on Friday then?”

  “I’m tired. It’s late.” Dropping the colored pencils to the table, he let them roll down to the trench at the bottom.

  “I’m sorry for calling so late. I’ve just been thinking about you. Please, Taylor. Coffee. Please.”

  Maybe it was that the hour was creeping toward midnight, or the Whiskey seeping into his system, but he finally relented. “Fine. Coffee on Friday. Meet you at Bean There at five.”

  “For old times’ sake.”

  Old times’ sake. He rolled his eyes. Taylor hung up, disappointed in his inability to say no to the woman who hurt him most when he’d needed her. He got up, set his glass next to the sink, and went to the door to lock up. There was no point in leaving it open any longer. Jude wasn’t coming back.

  As he brushed his teeth that night, he thought about the snowflakes on her lashes and how she’d made eggs for him. He wondered why she was at his parents’ party, where she knew no one, and why she wore a sundress when it had been freezing outside. He rinsed his mouth and finished up. When he returned to bed, he left the blinds open and watched the snow fall until he fell asleep.

  He awoke to knocking in the middle of the night. Jumping up, his heart racing from the disturbance, he rushed to the front door. Swinging it wide open, a drenched Jude stood there, looking a complete mess and dripping on the hallway carpet. “It’s Boehler.”

  “What is?” he asked, restraining from grabbing her.

  “My last name. It’s Boehler.”

  A gentle smile appeared on her face when Taylor smiled. “Jude Boehler. Okay. Is that why you came back, Jude Boehler?” He hoped there was more, but had no idea how to read her.

  “Yes. That, and because I wanted to kiss you again and I wanted you to kiss me like you did earlier.”

  Looking down and then back up into the eyes that seared his soul, he leaned his head against the open door. “I might not be able to replicate that kiss. What do we do if I can’t?”

  “We keep practicing—”

  “Until we get it right.” He took her hand and pulled her inside. She was soaked, but he didn’t care. He hugged her tight, so glad she’d come back. The door was shut, the bolts locked, and her wet coat taken off and hung up. She left her boots at the door and her dress on the floor just outside the bedroom. His boxers were dropped by the bed, and their bodies connected, lips kissed—deeply—and moans were sighs of their coming together.

  They were need and want.

  Craving, and caring.

  This was right.

  They were right.

  “JUDE?”

  “Yeah?” She yawned and looked at the time. Three seventeen. She yawned again.

  “Are you on your cycle?”

  “I don’t even own a bike.” She was taunting him. Three seventeen in the morning seemed like a good time to tease. Not!

  “No.” He sounded uncomfortable, but he finally worked it out. “Your menstrual cycle?”

  “Medical speak is not my idea of foreplay. Try another angle.”

  “I want to know.”

  “Why?”

  “Just tell me, Jude.”

  “No. I’m not.”

  He paused as it dawned on him. “Are you a virgin?”

  “No, Hazel.”

  He was onto her tricks already. “Were you? When you came over after the party?”

  “Maybe.”

  He pulled her even tighter against his chest and kissed her ear. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me for having sex with you. That’s weird and feels like it’s going to be followed up with a payment.”

  “I’m not paying you for sex, but I will kiss you again.”

  “Down there?” she asked, perking up.

  “Of course.”

  Jude didn’t leave Taylor’s apartment that week, not even to get food or clothes. She wore his T-shirts. She ordered food. She smoked in the bedroom with a window cracked open since he didn’t like the smell.

  He went to work. He came home with groceries. He brought her flowers and air fresheners. He never complained about the smoke. He liked Jude too much to let her one vice bother him.

  For that, he was welcomed home with pancakes and waffles, eggs benedict, and oatmeal for dinner. They ate in the nude. They ate on the couch and in bed. They made love while the snow fell outside and with the blinds wide open.

  Friday came and he went to work. A black cloud had been blocking their sunshine and it was about to downpour. All week he hadn’t really thought of Katherine or the coffee meeting. But here it was, and he didn’t want to go. He sat at his desk, staring out the window of the high-rise office building where he worked. Ten blocks home. Three blocks to Bean There.

  The ticking of his watch echoed in his ears and he looked down. Four fifty-seven. He set down his pencil and shutdown his laptop. Peering out the window while he put his coat on, he studied the weather and tried to
think of any excuse he could to go home to Jude instead.

  “It’s gotten heavier,” his co-worker Ben said. “I think I’ll wait it out and get caught up on the Manger project.”

  “Good idea. Unfortunately, I’ve got to go. I’m meeting someone at five.”

  “You’ll be late.”

  “Yeah, I’m okay being late to this meeting.”

  “Mysterious. You seeing someone new?”

  Taylor smiled. He couldn’t help it when he thought about Jude.

  Then he said, “Or did you get back together with Katherine?”

  But her name wiped the happy gleam from his face. Pushing his glasses up his nose, he said, “I should go. Have a good night.”

  Ben got back to work, not bothering to get more from him. He knew he wouldn’t talk about it if he didn’t want to. And he had too much work to catch up on. “You too.”

  Taylor wrapped his scarf around his neck as he waited for the elevator. He thought about calling Jude, but he didn’t have her number. It wouldn’t matter. She’ll be there when he got home. Content, she didn’t ask him about his day or talk about hers. When they were together, they lived in the moment, and he loved every second.

  As he rode the elevator, he wondered how practical that really was. Quite frankly, it wasn’t practical at all. That was just it. They didn’t make sense, but neither questioned what was going on. They just lived…

  Taylor walked into the quaint coffee shop fifteen minutes late. He saw Katherine rise from a back table and wave him over. He started walking while taking his gloves off, but detoured to order a coffee before joining her. He needed to have something to hold, something to steady his hand. He hated faltering in front of her and she didn’t deserve access to that side of his life anymore.

  With his drink in hand, he sat down across from her, setting his gloves on the table. “Hello,” he said, noticing her hair was shorter, not by much, but enough to see her differently.

  “Hi,” she said, keeping her voice intimate. She reached across the table and covered his hand that held the mug. “Thank you for coming. I wasn’t sure if you were going to.”